the chunks of snow that fly off needles, like bits of coconut meat flying from whitened fir trees in a northern oasis
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A River
of Stones
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
Is there still a blogging community?
It feels amazing to be blogging again. But I don't know where other bloggers who might connect to my blog might be. The crowd in the old...
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The Buddha says: “ You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself .” The path is uncertain. Uncertainty is the guiding for...
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What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
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Basquiat at the AGO: An Untitled Portrait When asked about his frequent use of "carbon" (tar, asbestos), Basquiat shot back, ...
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